


2:43

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Hoppus can't find a comeback, M/M, what's next?? hell freezes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Mark Hoppus couldn’t think of a witty comeback. It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Mark’s mind was occupied by one single thing that pushed everything else to the back.





	2:43

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the first blink interviews with Matt.
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> The common drill.. all mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

_It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Mark Hoppus couldn’t think of a witty comeback. It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Mark’s mind was occupied by one single thing that pushed everything else to the back._

“… somewhere casual, like maybe here?” the interviewer points at some random PA cases standing in a shaded backstage corner of today’s venue. “I’ll make an introduction, and there are 15 questions altogether for both of you. Just feel free to jump in and answer whenever you feel like it. Right?” he continues while the small camera crew arrange their stuff at the spot.

“Okay, cool,” sounds the answer in unison as Mark and Matt take a seat on the cases.

The camera starts to roll and they both politely answer the same questions over and over again. How the fans received the new record, how is the tour… it’s a little bit monotonous. The topic jumps from blink stuff to some Trio related questions and Matt happily comments them with a fond tone.

Mark watches Matt absentmindedly moving the case he’s sitting on in tiny circles with his legs while answering. Outside the sun rays are shining through slowly wandering clouds, the burning dry heat of yesterday washed away with a cooling night rain. A pleasant background noise from the PA crew and other people working on the show set fills the air. Mark breathes in and enjoys the moment.

The buzz suddenly peaks with an angry “Fucking piss!” scream accompanied by a loud thud which startles the guy holding the microphone over their heads. The boom mic drops into the camera frame. He fervently starts to excuse himself for ruining the take.

“No, no it’s fine. I get easily startled too,” Matt says sympathetic and Mark nods, throwing in a short story how Matt yelled and run into a couch in the studio when Jack pulled a rubber snake out of his guitar case. “It’s a classic, one of the first ones I taught him. It never gets old,” Mark says proudly while Matt hides his face in hands. The little jolly heckling somehow breaks the generic professional atmosphere.

“I see the mood has been overall great with you guys. How is it to work with Travis and Mark?” sounds the next question towards Matt. This one is a constant on the list.

“Plain Awesome. Working with Mark and Travis is a dream come true. I adored the band since Alkaline Trio and blink toured together. We stayed in touch during the years and when they asked me to play with them I could not sleep for two days.” Matt smiles shyly and Mark raises an eyebrow, Matt never said anything like that before.

“Oh, why so?” the interviewer laughs.

“Well, ahm, I was nervous and excited at the same time you know, like they were good friends of mine, almost like idols, before and now I would get to make music with them and spend more time together. Like I said, it’s a dream come true. I see Travis as one of the best punk rock drummers ever. He’s very much dedicated to the thing and watching him play the drums… I grew up playing drums and watching him play is my favorite thing.”

“And Mark?”

“Mark is one of the most genuine persons in my life. It’s so exciting to watch him work. We are the same age… almost the same age… he’s amazingly talented, I love to learn from his life experiences. I feel like he accomplished the ultimate goal. It’s an honor to work together.“ Another bashful smile follows.

“Oh, I don’t think I deserve to be praised that much for making fart jokes my job,” Mark tries to laugh it off.

“I think he does not like to hear it but it’s true,” continues Matt. ”He stayed true to the thing he was doing since he was a kid and look at him, he conquered the world. He’s so honest and dedicated to making good music. And not only that, he shares his experience and knowledge with other, younger bands and helps them establish their dream. His work ethic is so high, he comes early in the morning to the studio and leaves as the last one. Nothing is half-hearted, he’s hundred percent dedicated and he never gives up.”

Mark watches him talk while Matt’s ears are getting redder and redder. He starts to trip over words.

“… I’m fan of every record he made. Listening to the music he writes is like falling in love again,” Matt ends his answer and reaches for a half empty water bottle on the ground, making a really good work not meeting Mark’s eyes.

“Wow, that’s like, almost a love confession!” the guy coos, turning to astounded Mark with the last couple of questions.

Mark finishes his answers and looks at Matt who sits next to him, nervously picking on the hem of his pants, watching the journalist crew slowly wrap it up. The interviewer and the guys shake their hands, the mic guy apologizes again for the accident and they are both left alone in the corner.

“Okay, I’ll be in my bus if you need anything,” Matt starts to get up, faint traces of red still staining his cheekbones.

“No, wait,” Mark catches him by the hand, “I’d like to thank you for the things you said, it really took me by surprise you know?” Mark tries to form the right words. To be honest he never learned how to take appraisal like that with anything else than a joke. Now he desperately wants Matt to know that he values what he said.

Matt seems to be studying the hand that’s clutching his forearm rather than listen to what Mark has got to say.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mark withdraws his hand. “I — “

But he gets not to finish his sentence because Matt reaches for the back of Mark’s neck, pulls him in and presses their lips together. The kiss is quick and chaste but still manages to knock all the air out of Mark’s lungs. When they part Matt takes a deep breath, ready to say something, but then hesitates for a second, turns around and literally flees away from Mark who is sitting stunned on the PA case.

_It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Mark could not think of anything else._

He can’t remember how he got to his tourbus or when his heart rate went back down to normal.

The coffee he made when he stumbled in is now cold, reflecting his staring face like a black mirror. The busy world outside his refuge is muted, it’s only him together with his thoughts.

Yet Mark’s mind is empty, completely blank which is a very uncommon experience for a person whose mind is constantly occupied with a mess of various things from interesting book facts over lyrics fragments to the practical daily shit like whether one bottle of Nutella would be enough to cover one fully grown adult man in it or would you need two.

It feels like the heavy airless silence before the first peal of thunder.

Coffee Mark in the mug is starring at him with a crease between the brows. His hand slowly moves up to his lips, touching them, middle finger brushing along the bottom lip again and again.

_It’s been two hours and forty three minutes since Matt Skiba kissed Mark Hoppus._

Mark stands up so abruptly that he knocks over the mug, leaving spilled coffee drip off the table as he runs out the door.


End file.
